


Mending Walls – Episode 1

by uniquepov



Series: Mending Walls [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniquepov/pseuds/uniquepov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco must work together to help the victim of a Dark curse.</p><p>Written as a pinch-hit for <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_serpentinelion"><a href="http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://serpentinelion.livejournal.com/"><b>serpentinelion</b></a></span>'s Glompfest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mending Walls – Episode 1

**Author's Note:**

> The request was for lots of character development, UST, happy endings, humour, fluff (but in the boundaries of emotional depth, if that makes sense), sex :D (if it fits the plot), long involved stories with plot, new types of magic (I worship inventors of fancy new spells, magical concepts and such), slow built-up, witty dialogue, snakes (among other things) with the additional prompts of a pet/companion snake with personality, lots of parseltongue, maybe Draco with a parseltongue!kink, a person who can ONLY speak parseltongue, water(shower/bath/lake), an important painting (among others).
> 
> My glompee also gave a scenario: Most importantly, I would love to see a person who is only able to speak parseltongue, lots of parseltongue, the essential pet snake and Draco's parseltongue!kink.  
>  8th Year at Hogwarts after the war; some other school (Saxon Sorcery School? - I'm from Saxony/Germany and would love that idea :D) got utterly destroyed during the war and Hogwarts has to take in some students in their last year, including a shy reclusive girl who can only speak parseltongue ; she gets sorted into Slytherin (of course) and somehow silently befriends Draco, Harry gets the job of her interpreter during classes; she does not (pls) get involved with either Draco or Harry (although either or both of them might think/suspect that?); anyway, she is the link that somehow brings H+D together...and don't forget the very important pet snake.
> 
>  **A/N:** I volunteered to take on this assignment as a pinch-hit because I loved the idea. The problem,  < lj user=" ginnilini ">, is that your incredibly detailed prompt absolutely refused to be condensed into a one-shot. As a result, this is really just the beginnings of your plotbunny; think of it as the pilot episode for a television series. I promise to follow it up with another installment when I can.
> 
>  **Special Thanks:** To [](http://rivertempest.livejournal.com/profile)[**rivertempest**](http://rivertempest.livejournal.com/) , [](http://solas-divided.livejournal.com/profile)[**solas_divided**](http://solas-divided.livejournal.com/) and [](http://deirdre-aithne.livejournal.com/profile)[**deirdre_aithne**](http://deirdre-aithne.livejournal.com/) for their help and encouragement.  <3
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. However, I promise to return everyone, good as new, when I'm done playing with them. I own nothing that you recognize, and I do not profit from any of it.

Returning to Hogwarts to complete their unfinished studies was difficult, to say the least. Although much work had been undertaken over the summer, parts of the castle were still in ruins and closed off to students, except for those NEWT-level students who had volunteered to help the staff with the recovery efforts, each weekend.

Only a handful of Draco’s classmates had returned. Most of the Slytherins had managed to stumble their way through the coursework under the Carrows’ reign of terror and had opted to sit their NEWTs over the summer, and he had heard the professors discussing the fact that many of the Muggle-born students had fled the war and gone to other wizarding schools abroad. The so-called 8th-year students were mostly Gryffindors, Longbottom and the rest of the students who had hidden in the Room of Requirement and, of course, the Golden Trio.

Draco lounged in the Slytherin common room, staring unhappily at the empty frame which housed his godfather’s portrait. Snape’s portraits, both in McGonagall’s office and here in Slytherin House, had been frustratingly empty since his return to the school. Before the fiasco that his 6th-year studies had become, he had always confided in Snape, about everything, and there were some things he desperately needed guidance on. Most importantly, why he had not been able to get Harry- _bloody_ -Potter out of his mind since the Final Battle…

Draco would have given just about anything to see and speak to his godfather again, and was twirling his wand in his fingers, idly wondering whether Snape would respond to a threat to _Evanesco_ the portrait, when Professor Slughorn interrupted his thoughts.

“Ahh, Draco, my boy,” Slughorn enthused. “Just the person I was looking for.”

Draco stood and inclined his head. “Yes, Professor?”

“We have a bit of a… situation, you see,” Slughorn said delicately. “Best if you come with me and let the HeadMistress explain it.”

Draco had been very careful to keep his head down and stay out of trouble since his pardon from the Wizengamot, but he felt his heart sink at Slughorn’s words. An icy knot of dread formed in his stomach as he nodded silently, following his Head of House out of the dungeons.

****

***

In Professor McGonagall’s office, Draco stopped short at the sight of Harry Potter, minus his regular sidekicks, lounging indolently in a chair near the fireplace. The dark-haired wizard stiffened when Draco entered, but he gave a cordial nod before returning to his contemplation of the fire.  
Draco sat on the window ledge and waited.

Moments later, Professor McGonagall bustled into the room. “Ah, good. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy,” she began. “Thank you. We appreciate your willingness to help in this… unusual situation.”

Draco looked blankly from McGonagall to Slughorn, trying to figure out what he had gotten himself into. He was slightly gratified to see an equally confused look on Harry’s face.

“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help, Professor,” Harry began earnestly. “But… what exactly is the situation?”

Draco waited silently for the answer as McGonagall looked at them steadily.

“You’re aware, of course, that the war with Voldemort was not confined to wizarding Britain?” Both young men nodded, and she continued, “Are either of you familiar with Zauberkraft Schule?”

Harry shook his head blankly, but Draco nodded. “Yes, Professor.” For Harry’s benefit, he added, “It’s a magical school like Hogwarts; in the Saxony region of Germany.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. It _was_ indeed a magical school,” McGonagall agreed. “Unfortunately, Voldemort’s strategy seems to have been consistent in other countries; his followers infiltrated the school and began indoctrinating and recruiting students. They managed to gain quite a foothold there and the school was completely destroyed during a battle with German Ministry officials.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then McGonagall said briskly, “Most of the displaced students have chosen to attend other schools closer to their homes. However, Hogwarts has agreed to accept one student who has somewhat …unusual circumstances.”

“And…what are those circumstances, Professor?” Harry asked hesitantly.

McGonagall sighed. “At some point before, or possibly during, the battle, this student was cursed. It would appear that she was intended to be a tribute for Voldemort. So far, efforts to reverse the effects have been unsuccessful,” she told them wearily. “While she understands German, English and several other languages, the only language she is now currently able to speak is Parseltongue.”

Draco was silent for a long moment. No one else in the room knew how close _he_ had come to being a similar tribute, nor the horrors that were inflicted on said tributes, once the Dark Lord had them. Silently, he blessed Terence Higgs, wherever he was, for keeping him from that fate, however inadvertently. His attention was brought back to the present as McGonagall began speaking again.

“She appears to have much in common with Mr. Malfoy; her parents were strong supporters of Voldemort, she was raised in pure-blood society and the Sorting Hat has just placed her in Slytherin House. I would like you-“ she fixed Draco with a stern gaze “-to help her to adjust to her new life, and to Hogwarts.”

Draco swallowed hard and nodded.

“Mr. Potter, I must ask you to help her to communicate. Spend time with her, translate her answers in class . You already share all your classes with the Slytherins, so that should not be very much of an inconvenience to you.”

Harry nodded as well, green eyes wide. McGonagall smiled at them both briefly, before turning both their worlds upside down.

“In light of these unusual circumstances, we have decided it would be best to make some changes to your living arrangements, as well.”

****

***

After both he and Draco had argued against the arrangements, Slughorn went with Draco back to the dungeons to make the announcement to the rest of the Slytherins and McGonagall fixed him with a stern glare.

“Mr. Potter,” she began, then paused. “Harry. I know you don’t see it this way, but this is not a punishment. It is a chance for you to help another young victim of this war.” A small smile quirked the corners of her mouth as she asked, “Would you have preferred to be moved into the Slytherin dormitories?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, then closed it with a sigh and shook his head.

“This is only temporary. The entire staff, as well as consultants from St. Mungo’s, are researching the curse she was put under. If there is a way to cure her, we will find it,” McGonagall continued firmly. “I will speak to the rest of the Gryffindors later today. For now, let me show you to your new quarters. The elves will have already moved your things.”

She had taken him down several corridors before ending up standing before an enormous suit of armour.

“This sentinel operates in similar fashion to the gargoyle outside my office,” McGonagall had told him. “Unlike portraits, this guardian can understand the password in any language, including Parseltongue. The password is ‘treacle sponge.’” As she spoke, the knight inclined his head, helmet clanging, and stepped aside. She ushered Harry inside and quickly showed him the small but comfortable common room, with a good sized fireplace and 4 doors opening off of it.

The two doors opposite the fireplace proved to be the bath and loo. McGonagall stood outside the door to the left of the fireplace, fixing him with a stern look.

“This room will be Miss von Loewe’s. The door will be charmed to open only to her touch, except in the case of emergencies.” Harry blushed under her steely gaze. “The other door,” she said, indicating the one opposite, “is yours and Mr. Malfoy’s.”

Harry could not quite suppress a groan at that, pressing his lips together quickly as he nodded his understanding. McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder, gave him a brief smile and breezed out of the room.

Harry opened his new bedroom door and groaned again. It was a smaller room than the one he shared with the others in Gryffindor Tower, but it seemed more spacious because there were only two beds, two desks and a large wardrobe. True to McGonagall’s prediction, his trunk sat at the foot of one of the beds, his broomstick was propped against the wardrobe and his book bag was slung over the back of one of the desk chairs.

Harry threw himself onto the bed angrily and drew the curtains around it. He was so upset that when he held his wand, sparks shot from the tip, so he had wisely left it in his robes, now laying in a heap on the end of the bed.

He couldn’t believe that McGonagall had done this to him. It was bad enough she’d insisted that he move out of Gryffindor Tower and into a suite of rooms that he was to share with this new student. It was intolerable that he was now expected to share a bedroom with Draco- _bleeding_ -Malfoy.

****

***

Later that evening, Harry sat in the empty common room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his new suite-mates. He stared unseeingly at the Potions textbook lying open in his lap.  
Finally, he heard the entry sentinel moving and looked up as McGonagall reappeared, a young woman following shyly behind her.

“Ah, Mr. Potter; has Mr. Malfoy arrived yet?” McGonagall queried.

Harry began shaking his head, but even as he did, the clang of armour sounded again from the entrance and Draco appeared.

“Mr. Malfoy, excellent,” McGonagall smiled. “Gentlemen, may I introduce you to Gretje von Loewe, of Dresden? Miss von Loewe, this is Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.”

The girl, pleasantly pretty with a heart shaped face, honeyed blonde ringlets and bright blue eyes, smiled at them nervously, but did not speak. Worry lines creased her forehead and there were dark circles ringing underneath her eyes.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss von Loewe,” Draco said with a formal bow.

Harry’s eyes widened as the girl, Gretje, curtsied – actually _curtsied_ – and bowed her head, though she still remained silent. He stepped forward, cleared his throat and concentrated to reply in Parseltongue, _”Satheshaseeth seh sathsaway, Gretje.”_

Gretje’s eyes grew wide and her face, although still wary, lit up at the sound of Harry’s voice. She gave a broad smile as she replied, _“ Skarahesh seethawethy, Ha-Harry. Satheshaseeth seh sathsaway.”_

Harry’s eyes darted to McGonagall and he opened his mouth to translate for the girl, when he turned to Draco and stopped in surprise. The blond was staring at him, slack-jawed, with a slightly dazed expression in his grey eyes.

“Alright there, Malfoy?” Harry asked instead, carefully covering any concern with a practiced nonchalance.

Draco blinked once, then followed the other wizard into their accustomed roles so quickly, Harry thought he might have gotten whiplash.

“Just dandy, Potter, other than realising that I’ll have to see Madam Pomfrey about regular headache potions, if I’m going to be subjected to that _noise_ day in and day out,” Draco retorted, his tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. His gaze went to the newcomer, and his demeanor shifted as he inclined his head again and added, “From him, of course; your voice is quite soothing to the ear.”  
Gretje smiled in response, revealing a dimple in both cheeks.

“Well, if you three will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to. I will see you all at breakfast in the morning.” With that, McGonagall swept out of the room, leaving the three students staring at each other awkwardly.

Harry had lost his former shyness when speaking to girls, but he still couldn’t seem to come up with a way to begin a conversation. Asking the girl about her experiences in the war, or about her family, would bring up painful memories. He stared at his hands and fidgeted.

Draco, after a long moment of awkward silence where he waited for Harry to engage the girl in conversation in Parseltongue, finally sighed and smoothed the bump in the conversation by asking if she had been shown around their suite yet.

Gretje nodded, then she looked at them both worriedly. To Harry, she asked, _”Haya ahseeth; sya hawshes theesia?”_

Harry thought sadly of Hedwig, but he shook his head quickly. ”No,” he replied. “Draco, she wants to know if you have a pet here at Hogwarts.”

“No,” he echoed, shaking his head.

Gretje breathed a sigh of relief before continuing, _“Hawshes haya theesia. Shaseth skarwey hathes esh?”_

Harry relayed the question to Draco, who replied that he was, in fact, rather partial to snakes.  
Gretje smiled and said something else, looking hopeful. Harry nodded, and she turned and practically ran to her room.

“She wants to introduce us to the snake,” Harry muttered to Draco, sotto voce.

Draco nodded his understanding, even as Gretje reappeared in the common room with a metre-long grey snake curled around her shoulders. “Merlin!” he whispered under his breath.

Gretje said something to Harry, who responded by stepping forward and speaking directly to the snake. _” Satheshaseeth seh sathsaway, Pallasia,”_ Harry hissed.

The snake’s eyes widened as she stared from Harry to Draco, who was again looking slightly dazed, and back. Her tongue flicked out and she hissed faintly. Harry nodded.

Gretje continued, _”Swosth asse shestewayhe.”_

“Draco, this is Pallasia. She’s a Pallas viper; their bites are harmful bit not fatal,” Harry told him.

Draco seemed to give himself a mental shake and nodded respectfully to the snake. Pallasia nodded once to each of them before wrapping herself around Gretje’s shoulders.

”She’s beautiful,” Harry said softly. ”Is it alright if I touch her?” Gretje nodded, and the dark-haired wizard stretched out a hand to softly pet the snake’s head. Pallasia lifted her head to stare at Harry again, and the brunet began murmuring something in Parseltongue, his voice low and hypnotic.

Draco looked at them for a long moment. “Yes, well, it’s been a most eventful day,” he announced suddenly. “I think I’ll retire. Goodnight, Gretje, Pallasia. Potter.” Draco shut the door to the bedroom behind him with a firm click.

 _”Athawesheest setheys haya shawsthe?”_ Gretje asked worriedly.

Harry shook his head. ”No, it’s nothing you did,” he told her kindly. ”It’s just Malfoy being Malfoy.”

When Harry went to bed later that evening, the curtains were tightly closed around Draco’s bed. Harry smiled.

 _At least,_ he thought to himself, _Malfoy doesn’t snore, like Ron._

****

***

The next several weeks passed in a blur as the school adjusted to the novelty of Gretje’s presence and the new trio settled into a routine.

Harry and Draco fell deeper into the unofficial truce they had established after the war and Harry’s testimony at the Malfoys’ trials. They did not talk about it, but their conversations evolved to consist of good-natured insults, rather than the vitriol they had once shared.

Evenings were spent in their shared common room, as crowds and strangers made Gretje very nervous. Madam Pince had decreed that Parseltongue made too much noise, and the crowd that seemed to gather around Gretje wherever she went was too disruptive, which eliminated the library as a possible refuge. Draco, Harry and Gretje would sit before the fire in companionable silence, studying, while Pallasia dozed on a chair or curled around Gretje’s shoulders.

The shadows under her eyes grew lighter, but the girl had not lost the haunted look which seemed to hover around her. The only time she seemed completely at ease was those evenings when it was just the three of them and Pallasia.

Until the night when Draco, sitting next to the fire, loosed his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing the faded Dark Mark on his forearm.

Gretje, looking up at the movement, let out a piercing scream and scrambled backwards, tripping over the leg of the sofa to sprawl gracelessly on the floor. Pallasia, startled by her mistress’ sudden movement and scream, coiled and hissed at a bewildered Draco.

Harry jumped to his feet and rushed to help the distraught girl, while saying angrily over his shoulder, “What did you do this time, Malfoy?”

Draco, who had frozen in place at the snake’s threat, still managed to get a sneer in his voice as he replied, “You were sitting right here with me, Wonder Boy; did you see me _do_ anything?”

The girl was babbling and pointing frantically at Draco, still seated on the floor. Pallasia, once she had determined that the blond was not an immediate threat, slithered to Gretje and coiled around her ankle in what was clearly meant to be a gesture of comfort. Draco took the opportunity to stand, concern over the girl’s reaction overriding his customary Slytherin aloofness.

“Is she alright?” he asked Harry quietly. Though his voice was gentle, his approach seemed to intensify the girl’s panic and she burst into tears.

Harry turned from where he stood, his hand on Gretje’s arm as he listened and nodded to her anxious hissing, and deliberately placed himself in between Draco and the sobbing girl. “Malfoy, listen; would you please go into the bedroom and close the door? You’re upsetting her.”

“But I haven’t done anything!” Draco’s voice bordered on a whine as he looked from Harry to Gretje.

Harry’s voice softened. “Draco, please. Trust me. I’ll be there in a minute and I’ll explain.”

Draco’s eyes widened as Harry used his given name, and he nodded, turning on his heel to retreat into the bedroom. He shut the door and sat nervously on the bed to wait.

In the common room, he could hear Gretje’s hysterical voice and Harry’s low, murmuring responses. It drove him crazy that he couldn’t understand what the two of them were saying, but clearly Harry had had the right of it, for as soon as Draco was gone, Gretje began calming. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry came into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him firmly, and sank onto his own bed, opposite Draco.

 _”Swashethsaye hahseh,”_ Harry told him, not realizing he was still using Parseltongue.

Draco’s eyes had moved instinctively to stare at his lips as he spoke, but now he wrestled his attention back where it belonged and said plainly, “In English, please, Potter.”

Harry blinked. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t always realise. Gretje’s gone to take a bath. She’s pretty upset.”

“So I gathered,” Draco replied wryly. “What in Merlin’s name just happened?”

“You really don’t know?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Look, Potter, if I knew, I wouldn’t bloody well have to ask you, now would I?” he sneered.

Harry sighed, getting up and crossing to stand in front of Draco, grabbing his wrist and forcing his arm in front of his face. “ _That_ just happened, Draco.”

Draco stared at the faded Mark on his arm, comprehension dawning. “But – she – I – her parents were Death Eaters!”

“Who were going to gift her to Voldemort as a sex toy, or worse!” Harry thundered. “You don’t think that might be an upsetting reminder to her? Dammit, Draco, I thought you were smarter than that!”

Harry’s continued use of his given name went unnoticed as Draco stared into the flushed cheeks and intense eyes. “I- I-“ he stammered uncertainly.

Harry’s lip curled in a tight sneer. “I know it’s a stretch for you to think about someone besides yourself, Malfoy. Don’t injure yourself trying,” he spat, striding across the room to throw himself onto his bed.  
Draco sat dumbfounded for a moment before jumping to his feet and following Harry across the bedroom.

“You think I don’t know how she feels? You think I don’t have the same feelings, every time I look at this cursed Mark?” Draco shouted angrily.

“I think it’s a little different between a Death Eater and their victim, yeah,” Harry said coldly.

The ice in his voice brought Draco up short, while the words stabbed into his chest. He stumbled backward and sank down to sit on the floor, his back flush against the four-poster bed.

“What the fuck do you know, Potter?” he whispered, blinking back the tears threatening to form in his eyes.

Harry sat up in surprise, looking at the blond now with concern.

“Draco-?” he asked uncertainly.

“Not that you care, or that it’s any of your business,” Draco said flatly, “but before Father forced me to take the Mark, I was supposed to be a gift to the Dark Lord myself.”

Harry’s jaw hit the floor. “You- what?”

“Father had done something to displease him and he knew the Dark Lord fancied me. He was willing to give away his own son in exchange for a return to the Dark Lord’s good graces.”

From what Harry had seen of Lucius Malfoy over the years, he was not overly surprised by Draco’s revelation; however, he didn’t think the blond would appreciate hearing that.

Draco, seeing Harry’s discomfiture, gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “Did I disrupt your black-and-white world, Potter? Someone’s either a villain or a victim?”

Harry looked at him steadily. “You know that’s not what I was thinking,” he said quietly.

Draco fell silent, drawing his knees up to his chest where he sat. His mind flashed back to his mother’s trial – to _his_ trial – and took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said in a small voice. “I know.”

“Draco, I-“ Harry began hesitantly.

“Just… leave it, Potter,” Draco said roughly. “Just leave it.”

****

***

They sat, lost in their own thoughts, until they heard Gretje moving around in the common room. Draco looked up at Harry from his place on the floor.

“Look, I don’t want to go through those hysterics again. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but… will you help me?”

Harry gave him a measuring gaze, then nodded. “Wait here.”

Draco fidgeted, studying his cuticles, as he listened to Harry’s voice through the door. He found the sound oddly soothing. Moments later, Harry stood beckoning from the doorway.

Draco walked into the common room and hesitated near the door, rolling his cuff down his arm. Gretje sat on one end of the sofa, her back against the arm and one leg tucked under her. She held Pallasia in her lap and was idly stroking the snake’s head. She looked at him apprehensively, but gave him a small, tentative smile. Draco sat in the chair opposite her, leaving the other side of the sofa for Harry to occupy as a buffer to keep her at ease. Harry nodded in satisfaction at the arrangement and sat down next to Gretje.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Draco began quietly. “That was not my intention.”

Gretje nodded and spoke.

“She says she knows, and she’s sorry as well,” Harry interpreted.

Draco nodded. “I… wanted to tell you about this,” he indicated his forearm. “About me.”

The girl cocked her head and looked at him inquisitively, waiting for him to continue.

“My father was one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle,” Draco began tonelessly. “From before I was born, until the Final Battle here at Hogwarts. For over a year, the Dark Lord was actually in residence in Malfoy Manor.”

Gretje’s eyes dimmed and she looked at him seriously. _“Hahssatashey sawrathah seh?”_

Harry quietly told him, “She wants to know if that’s when you were branded.”

Draco nodded.

_”Hahwse aseth thessa sakash es?”_

“Did you do the things she watched her parents do?” Harry all but whispered.

Draco sat forward earnestly. “No; I swear it. The only things I did; I did because I had no choice.”

Gretje looked troubled. Harry sat waiting, a look of faint skepticism in his eyes.

“Don’t believe that, Potter?” he sneered. “Don’t tell me you never had to pick the least evil option available at a given time? Always had your pick of choices?”

“At least I never followed Voldemort,” Harry muttered snidely.

“That was decided for me, long before I could make my own choices,” he snapped. “I was always going to be either his follower, or his willing victim; in the end, even that choice was made for me.”

Harry looked dubious, but Gretje asked another question, low and urgent.

“His father was going to make him a tribute, yes,” Harry answered for him, nodding.

Draco’s grey eyes met the girl’s worried gaze as he nodded as well. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Only the fact that I was no longer a virgin saved me from it.”

Gretje blushed crimson.

“I was initiated as a low-ranking Death Eater instead, but because my father was out of favor, I was not permitted to leave the manor. I didn’t participate in the raids. The others would bring back captives as sport, for the Dark Lord’s amusement.” Draco swallowed hard and forged ahead. “We all had to watch and _enjoy the show_.” His voice was flat, harsh and bitter. “When I was ordered to participate, I did as I was told. Mostly, I tried to escape notice.”

Both Gretje and Harry were looking at him with horrified expressions.

_”Hahwse aseth thessa sakash es?”_

Harry echoed her question, keeping his expression carefully blank. “Did you kill any of them?”

“No! I wouldn’t; I couldn’t!” he cried in an anguished tone. “I swear!”

Gretje spoke again, her tone strangely comforting.

“She believes you,” Harry told him quietly. Draco’s eyes met his. “And so do I.”

Draco drew in a shaky breath as he held Harry’s gaze. “The point is, I’m not what you think I am.” He tore his eyes from Harry’s to look directly at Gretje. “I understand, perhaps better than anyone, what you’ve been through.”

The two looked at each other for a long moment, before Gretje glanced uncomfortably at Harry. Draco caught the look and frowned.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” he told the girl. “Harry is the kindest, _truest_ Gryffindor I’ve ever seen,” he said, without a trace of derision or malice in his voice. “He’s seen things, too. He understands; he won’t judge.”

An amazed Harry shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving Draco’s.

“I won’t – I – ah – “ Harry stammered, flustered.

Gretje smiled and touched her hand to Harry’s knee, drawing his attention.

 _”Seethawethy, Draco,”_ she said, looking directly at Draco.

Draco held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to translate.

“You’re welcome, Gretje,” he replied softly.

Harry, his green gaze moving from one to the other, smiled. Maybe there was hope for all of them, yet.

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

>  **Additional A/Ns:**  
>  (1) The Parseltongue words are my own invention, thanks to the incredibly brilliant suggestion from [](http://rivertempest.livejournal.com/profile)[**rivertempest**](http://rivertempest.livejournal.com/).  
>  (2) Title taken from the song “Mending Walls” by Joe Crookston, which can be heard here. It’s a reimagining of Frost’s icon poem.


End file.
